


Sideways from the course

by bringmedogs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adventure, Avengers AU, Brian who works in retail, Brian's cool sunglasses, Crack, I'm Sorry, Intrigue, Loki as an influencer, Multi, Romance, Titanic? AU, luxury cruise AU, might as well start writing about the Paris sewers, more crack, some gore, unnecessarily long descriptions of things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22330033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringmedogs/pseuds/bringmedogs
Summary: After the 2012 near-apocalypse, both humanity and its intergalactic neighbours are doing their best to integrate and heal. They gather aboard a brand new luxury cruise ship - the TITANIC II - with love and a song in their hearts. The problem is, nothing ever goes smoothly when Loki is involved.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Sideways from the course

**Author's Note:**

> This fic began when a friend and I drunkenly compiled a list of batshit prompts from a series of ridiculous story prompt generators. We cobbled them together in the semblance of a plot, waited for an opportune lightning storm, and voila! Now finally, here is my glorious son. He is perfect and terrifies me. I cannot escape him. So I must continue to write, for what other choice do I have? 
> 
> Anyway I hope to have a lot of fun with this. Hope you enjoy it too!

_But by God-sent changing winds ere long he's driven  
Sideways from the course he had intended,  
And he feigns as though he would surrender,  
While he gently striveth to outwit them_

_\- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_

..

..

It was a glorious day. Brian looked up at the deep blue sky, clear but for the occasional seagull and a few perfect cumulonimbus. The weather was comfortable and balmy, and the bright morning sun shone down upon the glistening water. A pleasantly briny aroma wafted up from the waves. 

It was utterly intolerable. 

He flipped his dollar-store clip-on sunglasses over his eyes. The lenses were blue and reflective, and he hoped they cultivated the sort of sporty countenance that might finally land him a girlfriend. Brian was twenty two years old, pale, bespectacled, and looked a bit like he was made of string cheese. Tall and gangly, multiple components of his person seemed to somehow be fraying, from his hair to his shoelaces. 

He contemplated the series of events that had led to his finding a job aboard the TITANIC II, a brand new, highly impractical luxury cruise ship bound to embark on her maiden voyage. After dropping out of college, he had spent a year bouncing between various outlet malls picking up customer service gigs before finally landing a position on a cruise ship. It was very nearly the worst job he’d ever had, not only because managers were always forcing the crew to be cheerful, but because there was no escaping the guests. Still it was the closest thing to a holiday he could afford, and he consoled himself with the thought that it was unlikely anybody would intervene if he decided to throw himself overboard. 

Guests shuffled slowly up the gangway and onto the deck of the ship. In the aftermath of The Incident (though anything involving The Avengers could easily be classified as such), Earth had been getting a lot more chummy with its neighbours. Business had boomed as aliens and humans forged an uneasy coexistence that they were still settling into. (New York had adjusted quite easily, as most residents claimed they were used to it by now. They did not clarify whether they meant that they were comfortable with the diversity, or if they were just used to getting attacked).

The result was what Brian saw before him now - an eclectic mix of both foreign (ha!) and local tourists. He watched them all with thinly-veiled disdain. It made no difference to him if they were human or alien. No matter their race, gender, or species, all customers were objectively terrible. 

The passengers on the TITANIC II were mostly couples, since the experience was meant to be as close to the film as possible (it was doing bewilderingly well in the intergalactic box office). This was reflected in the ship’s overall aesthetic, from the grand staircase and gold plaster filigree, to the crew’s terribly uncomfortable uniforms and cabins. The ship’s owners had also installed a replica of The Sex Car, and a team of janitorial staff had been posted around the clock to ensure that the vehicle was cleaned between each amorous encounter. 

One guest in particular drew Brian’s attention (this was a feat, considering the aliens). He was creating a bit of a ruckus, holding his phone aloft and sweeping carelessly around in search of The Best Angles. Brian’s eyes grew wide as he took in the lurid, low-buttoned Hawaiian-print shirt, the bright blue beach shorts, and gold-rimmed sunglasses. Wait. Wasn’t that the guy who tried to blow up the planet?

“What’s up, followers! It’s me, your favourite Trickster God! I’m on vay-cay; ready to get a little _low-key_ \- ha ha! I’m finally aboard The TITANIC II! It’s literally _The Most™_ . It’s like, soooo hot I’d burn to a crisp without my current foundation, Flawless Face-Forward Mineral Creme by Maybollene, which happens to be SPF 50. Ugh. Absolute lifesaver. Shoutout to those of you who sent me those gift baskets - ButtTouch69 and L0nelyTear - you’re totally worthy of all the nine realms! Ha ha! Alright babes, catch ya later! This is Loki, rightful king of the universe, signing off! _Mwah!_ ”

As Loki blew a kiss and whipped his phone back into his pocket, a drastic change took place. The frivolous, celebrity persona vanished and he seemed to settle more comfortably into his skin - in the sense that he was still an asshole, but a _different_ sort of asshole. He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a vape, and took a long drag. He exhaled, and the smoke curled around his body before drifting into the air. Everything about the action was carefully calculated to portray an attitude of regal insouciance - an effect that was more than slightly dampened by his attire. 

Brian wanted to shove that stupid vape down his throat.

“Hey, excuse me?” he called, “There’s no smoking allowed on deck.”

Loki turned, one eyebrow raised, and looked him up and down with haughty indifference. He took another drag of his pen. “Hey kid,” he said.

“It’s Brian,” said Brian.

“Uh huh.” Loki sidled up to him and put his arm around his shoulders. Then he blew smoke in his face. 

Brian coughed, waving his hands angrily. It smelled nauseatingly sweet. He was ready to do what The Avengers did not, and murder this bastard once and for all. 

“ _Excuse_ me sir, but smoking is not permitted outside of our designated smoking areas-”

“So Boris, you look like a guy with nothing to lose.”

“It’s _Brian_.” He paused. “What gives you that impression?”

“Mmm. The dead eyes… the tacky shades... the pitiful desolation in your voice... that haircut... I mean, I could go on.”

Brian reached out to touch his hair self consciously. “What’s wrong with my hair…?”

“Listen Bruce, I have a proposition for you.”

“It’s BRIAN.”

“As you no doubt already know, I’m what kids these days call ‘Chaotic Neutral’-”

“They call you _neutral?_ ”

“-And I have amassed a substantial number of followers in recent years across a range of social media platforms.”

“I don’t-”

“Guess how many. Go on, just guess.”

“What-”

“Alright I’ll tell you. I beat out _both_ Obama _and_ Katy Perry.”

“If you’d just-”

“Anyway - just shush for a minute, let me speak - I need to keep my followers happy. They expect non-stop quality content, streamed directly into their eyeballs on the daily. And so,” said Loki, whipping them around, “to this end I have a plan.” 

He strong-armed his hostage into a “casual” stroll along the deck. Brian smiled nervously at the passing tourists, surreptitiously trying to unentangle himself until Loki pushed him into a quiet enclave. He hovered over Brian, bracing one hand against the wall for support, effectively cutting off any route of escape. Brian was not a great romantic, but he’d seen enough for this scene to feel eerily familiar. He clamped his hands over his mouth. 

“Whatever are you doing?”

“Proffefcting Myffelf.”

“You are bizarre, Benji, but that is precisely why I must have you.” 

“Ipffs Bwiian.” He paused for a moment of consideration. “An’ _no._ ”

Loki attempted to pull his hands away. “Come now, surely this is not what you dreamt your life would be? This miserable drudgery, this humiliating servitude? Surely you long within your deepest self for an adventure? For gallant rebellion? To truly live, just this once?”

Brian thought about it. He thought about having to drop out of college. He thought about the way Karen Weinman had laughed at him when he’d asked to buy her a drink. He thought about the way the assistant manager of the sunglass kiosk at the mall had publicly fired him for knocking the merchandise off the shelves. He thought about his stupid supervisor aboard the TITANIC II who kept telling him to ‘smile more’ despite his being elbow-deep in a clogged toilet. 

He lowered his hands. “Alright,” he said. 

Loki smiled devilishly. 

…

...

The Dining Hall looked out upon a spectacular sunset view. Sadia watched a uniformed waiter refill her glass of orange juice and felt a twinge of guilt - she was supposed to be on the job, after all. Given the spectacular creature comforts before her, Sadia rationalized her indulgence and put thoughts of abstinence from her mind. 

She leant back in her chair and looked leisurely around the room. It was enormous, with a capacity of up to 500 people, and it was nearly completely occupied. The lighting was warm and low, with an embossed ceiling, wide windows, and tasteful gold accents. Waiters wove efficiently between the tables, refilling glasses or transporting steaming plates of food. The diners were all fabulously dressed in period-appropriate attire; draped in pearls and rich fabrics (Sadia herself wore a suit). This really was one of the better gigs she’d taken on; she just wished she didn’t have to experience it all alone. That was kind of a bummer. 

Sadia had been assigned to this particular case four months earlier in DC, tasked to monitor notorious interstellar criminal, Loki Odinson. Frankly she was astounded that he’d been allowed to roam free given the depths of his violence, but her supervisor commented that they couldn’t afford to piss off another literal _God_ and risk _twice_ the damage. Sadia was a fairly religious person, but if Loki was anything to go by then these alien clowns were the farthest thing from divine she’d ever seen. 

The clown in question entered the dining room and paused in the doorway, surveying the scene before him. His eyes lit up as something drew his attention, and as he sauntered past Sadia adjusted her hijab to shield her face. He crossed the room and headed towards a table close to the end of the buffet occupied by a lone diner, whom everyone seemed to be leaving a wide berth. Not to miss out, Sadia let a few moments pass and then followed his course. 

She paused strategically by the ice cream station and pretended to have difficulty deciding on a flavour, hoping to overhear Loki’s conversation. Or at least she would have if the waitress behind the counter had not been the most adorable creature she’d ever seen in her life. The waitress smiled sweetly and pushed her ponytailed braids off her shoulder, and somehow Loki started to seem far less important than what was unfolding in front of her. _There’s no reason I can’t do both,_ thought Sadia, as she asked for another sample of pistachio. 

...

...

The Duchess was enjoying her meal. The Kobe steak was extra-rare, and the wine was both flavourful and expensive - two qualities she held dear. A quivering waiter appeared at her elbow as she drained her glass to ask if she would like another bottle. She nodded. The waiter fled.

Somewhere on this ship was the man she was bound to marry. They had spent little time together, although she had been assured that it was a fortuitous union given the vast extents of both their estates. Zilliam Baine had first made her acquaintance at a hunting event two years prior, and she’d quickly come to admire the ruthless confidence with which he despatched the men fleeing from his gun. Yes, they would make a good pair indeed.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in her steak knife and smiled, exposing rows of sharp teeth, gleaming in stark contrast to her bronze skin. Her scales were iridescent and the precious gems that decorated her horns glittered delicately under the warm light. _Not bad,_ she thought appraisingly. A pair of footsteps approached from behind and she turned minutely in her chair, expecting to see the waiter - but this was not the case. 

“I hope you’ll forgive me for being so forward, but I noticed you from across the room and just _had_ to introduce myself.”

The Duchess raised a quizzical brow as the man entered her frame of vision. He was handsome, and immaculately dressed in a dark suit. 

“I am Loki Odinson,” he said, with a deferential nod of his head. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

She knew who he was, of course, but it wouldn’t do to admit as much. “I have not,” she replied coolly. 

“Then I must entreat you for a chance to get to know each other. You have captivated me.”

The Duchess took her time in responding. There was to be no mistaking who held the power here. He withstood her gaze, unwavering, which impressed her. 

At this point the waiter returned, recognized Loki, and managed to turn even more pale. The bottle of wine trembled in his hands. 

“Allow me,” said Loki, plucking the bottle from his grasp. Then, with a smile so charming it could melt butter, the contents of the bottle were summarily poured into The Duchess’ empty glass. 

At this, she waved an acquiescing claw, indicating that he sit down. He did so, a satisfied expression on his face. 

“You’ll have to forgive me, Mr. Odinson,” she said, “I’ve made quite a mess of the table and there isn’t much room.”

“No, don’t apologise,” he reassured her, “it was one of the things that drew me to you.”

The Duchess tittered politely. “You flatter me.”

“Truly!” he exclaimed. “‘Aah,’ I said, ‘Now there’s a kindred spirit.’”

The waiter nervously cleared his throat. “ _Hemhem_. M-m-madam, will t-there a-anything e-else?”

The Duchess waved him away. The waiter’s body sagged with relief and he fled once more, murmuring a breathy ‘thank God’ as he did so.

The Duchess scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Are all humans such cowards?”

“Unfortunately, more often that not. Although,” continued Loki, “his demeanor may have something to do with your… unusual centerpiece.”

“This?” she gestured to the object sitting at the center of the table. It was a severed head. A wide ring of blood had spread out from where it had been placed.

Loki nodded matter-of-factly. 

“Earth customs are bizarre. He annoyed me. I was well within my rights.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“He kept hovering around me like a fly, asking stupid questions. Sometimes a girl needs a little time with the menu before she places an order!”

“Of _course._ ” Loki said reassuringly, one hand over his heart. “ _Well_ within your rights.”

The Duchess raised her glass to him, amused, and he grinned devilishly in response. She quite liked it. 

“Let’s get you your own glass,” she said, and summoned another despairing waiter. 


End file.
